


the only human.

by Gon (pepperedfox)



Series: Author's Faves [3]
Category: Fate/EXTRA, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Before she summoned Andersen, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Nothing is explicitly described, Please be mindful of the warnings before you read, This is set prior to Kiara joining the Moon Cell Holy Grail War, it's all implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26077666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperedfox/pseuds/Gon
Summary: I, too, live in a world far, far away from the surface, Kiara thought. The little mermaid lived at the bottom of the sea, but Kiara dwelled in a realm higher than any mortal. How wonderful it would be, if she failed this divine test and became something truly beautiful like sea foam.---a short fic abt kiara’s childhood, how she became the monster she is, and what andersen’s stories did for her. mind the tags!
Series: Author's Faves [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993102
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	the only human.

**Author's Note:**

> now with amazing fan art by the talented ars... check it out here!! https://twitter.com/tokkimeki/status/1301864937405337601

The room reeked of incense and the smoke brought tears to her eyes. Kiara knew what was to come. She had overheard the ritual many, many times from the veiled walls of her bed and when the two monks began to undress, she tried to cover her eyes, but the head monk’s grip on her arms were tighter than any manacle.

“Do not look away, Kiara.” His deep voice was a command. “Be not afraid. Watch. Learn. What you see before you is the Great Bliss. This is your purpose: to lead us down this path of enlightenment.”

\---

Kiara never learned which woman was her mother. She asked the head monk, once, when they were studying sutras, to which he merely smiled and shook his head. “Does it matter?” he said. “We are a family here. All the men of this school are your father. All the women of this school are your mother. You are well-loved, more than any other child.”

He was right. He was always right because what he said always happened, one way or another. The head monk knew many, many things about the world for he witnessed a brilliant vision years ago. How could a silly book compare to his wisdom?

Oh, but Kiara couldn’t help believing in ink and paper. What delightful tales the book possessed, so different from her world of shadows and smoke. There was the Steadfast Tin Soldier, who hopped along so bravely on one leg, a true hero to be admired for he was willing to sacrifice everything for this concept called ‘love.’ There were the Wild Swans, who trusted their sister to work tirelessly to break their curse. And Thumbelina, born from a little flower, dearly beloved by the old woman.

Maybe she was like Thumbelina, having sprouted from the ground without a mother or a father. Only, her flower must have bloomed in the wrong place, or she must’ve been kidnapped by frogs, for she was never shown the affection written about in the books.

The head monk laughed when she held out the book to him in a plea for a bedtime story. “What is this? ‘Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales…’ you wish for me to read this?”

“I would very much like it,” Kiara said quietly.

“Oh, Kiara.” The head monk patted her head. “These tales will divert your attention from what’s truly important. You must not stuff your head full of their nonsense. I will take this with me—”

“No!”

The protest burst out of her unexpectedly strong. Kiara slapped her hands over her mouth. The head monk studied her closely.

“If you truly wish to have it, I cannot deny you,” he said. “Tell me one thing. Who gave you this book? It is not in our libraries.”

Kiara looked down and mumbled a name.

“I see,” the head monk said. He handed her the book back. “Thank you, Kiara. And good night.”

She clutched the book close to her chest, nails digging into its blue cover. She dared not let go of it for the rest of the night.

\---

The next week, the woman who gave Kiara the book disappeared. “Such a shame,” the head monk said, arranging a new set of specimen jars. “It always hurts to lose a family member.”

\---

Kiara learned to hide the book of fairy tales. When she wasn’t studying, she stayed up late at night to painstakingly copy the stories by hand. The precaution proved wise, for when she woke up one day and reached beneath her pillow, her hand touched only fabric.

It was to be expected. She was too old for such things, too important to dawdle on such impure, secular tales.

Even so, it felt as though a great hole opened in her chest and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

\---

“Place your hand on her chest. Yes, like so. Do you feel her heart? Concentrate your mana so that you may locate her soul’s core. A-a-a-ah yes. Good. This is the power of the Ten Thousand Colored Stagnation. See how easy it is to dissect one’s desires and fears. All is within your sight, Kiara.

… now, grant her release. May she be reborn in the next world.”

\---

None of Kiara’s caretakers would tell her why the doctor looked so grim. When she asked Sato, one of the chattier monks, he gave a somewhat strained smile. “I would not trust the advice of professionals outside our school,” he said. “Outsider knowledge is always inferior to ours.”

“Then why was he brought in to begin with?” Kiara asked.

“Do not worry yourself, Kiara. Have faith. This is your test and we believe you can overcome it.”

For as long as she remembered, her body was frail. Something as little as a change in weather could fatigue her and even the slightest of exertion pained her. Most of her days were spent in the silken cocoon that was her bed. The head monk ensured the drapes were sheer, so that she could retain a sense of privacy while witnessing the necessary rituals.

On some days, she wished those drapes were walls.

Her only company were the stories she saved. They only came out when Kiara was sure she was alone, and always tucked between the pages of her sutras. The author’s voice was nothing like the monks. Each sentence he wrote wove a world out of her imagination, so vivid that she felt as though she were in the midst of them…

_Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects…_

I, too, live in a world far, far away from the surface, Kiara thought. The little mermaid lived at the bottom of the sea, but Kiara dwelled in a realm higher than any mortal. How wonderful it would be, if she failed this divine test and became something truly beautiful like sea foam.

\---

They found her stories, scrawled on the backs of paper menus and wish paper.

The head monk burned them before her. Kiara watched. She did not look away, nor did she cry.

“You are thirteen,” he said. “You must grow up.”

\---

So she did.

\---

Semen. Period blood. Pieces of the womb. Body parts. Genitals. Asphyxiation. Animal flesh. Human flesh. Leather. Silk bedsheets. Handcuffs. Wax. Fire. Death. Prayers. Curses. Shit. Piss. Incense. Fire. The open palm. The clenched fist. Moans. Screams. Life. Death.

All this, Kiara learned. All this, she consumed. All this, she craved.

In due time, she forgot what she never should’ve.

\---

“Kiara,” the former head monk whispered, and she found to her pleasure it was the most desperate she’d ever heard him.

“My, my. You look tired. Do you want to lay your head in my lap?”

Blood stained her clothes and skin. Her followers had been a little _too_ eager to prove themselves in the coup, and the result covered her from head to toe. Kiara knelt upon the stained floor and tilted her teacher’s head up with a dainty finger. The man had been stabbed several times in the back. He would not survive the night.

“Why… why…”

“Sensei,” Kiara said, “I thank you. You treated me with nothing but kindness and raised me as if I were your own. You helped me realize how to help others. If you hadn’t taught me the Ten Thousand Colored Stagnation, I wouldn’t have reached enlightenment.”

Her voice dropped to a soft purr. “I can see your soul. Do you want me to tell you what I see?”

“Kiara,” the monk begged.

“My duties as bodhisattva is to save humans. But I realized something after I overcame my trial.” Kiara dragged a sharp nail along the trembling curve of his cheek. “And that is there are no humans on this earth – except for me.”

“Please…”

“It was good catching up with you, sensei. I will pray for your salvation.”

They took him away screaming. Kiara would have followed them but something kept her in the room. She found tissues to wipe her bloodied hands with and began digging through the monk’s drawers. There was no guarantee she’d find it. After all these years, surely he’d have gotten rid of— ah.

In a locked drawer, beneath tomes of forbidden texts, was a familiar blue cover. Carefully, so as not to stain it, Kiara picked it up and turned it over in her hands. “Hans Christian Andersen,” she murmured. A smile crossed her face. “I look forward to meeting you soon.”


End file.
